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You can't handle this truth Gutless MORTALS

Contributed by kleetas on Friday, 6th November 2009 @ 11:24:06 AM in AEST
Topic: InspirationalPoems

If you hate my music I play like Hip Man Gord Stop the whiney excuses Yank out the power cord
You don't have any spirit Complain about your king He kicks the sand into your face You never do a thing
You won't face facts When reality attacks You run to a store Like shopping bulls to gore
Millions of the weak minds Prop up the plastic king Illuminate the fakery And let his death toll ring
Judge me not you slaves of gold You sentimental fools Run to local hardware stores And buy up all the tools
Build yourself a spider hole Bring chocolate for the wait Soon the noose it beckons you Like Sadam & Hitlers' fate
The aliens have probed your mom They infiltrate the schools They dress in scary costumes Those trick or treatin ghouls
Pshycic people have an ace The pre-cogs have it too Contact your local charletin And ask them what to do
New dimensions in your mind Comprehend your fate Expand the everafter For mortals its' too late

Copyright © kleetas ... [ 2009-11-06 11:24:06]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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